Does Dorian Die In Throne Of Glass Series の小説・ストーリー

His scream wasn’t normal—it was raw, twisted, full of rage and agony. The Owlshard’s glow flickered. Then cracked. Then shattered. A wave of light blasted out from where he stood. The shadows around us hissed and melted away. The trees stopped groaning. The air went still. And Dorian fell to his knees. “You… you think you’ve won?” he gasped, blood spilling from his mouth. “You cannot undo fate.” His final words echoed through the clearing. Then he collapsed, unmoving and dead. I didn’t waste a second.

Daniel brushed his thumb lightly across her cheek. “But tonight,” he said softly, “you survived.” Her voice dropped. “So did she.” Daniel’s jaw tightened. “Maybe.” Vivienne studied his face. “You don’t believe she died in that fire.” “No.” “Why?” Daniel exhaled slowly. “Because people like Margaux don’t disappear that easily.” Marcus raised his coffee cup from the couch. “Agreed.” Vivienne walked slowly toward the windows. The city stretched endlessly beyond the glass. So many lights.

Waylen gave Darana a sheepish smile, causing her to laugh while Dario just stood stiffly with no expression on his face. “Dario,” Caliste called out. “Aren’t you going to greet your sister-in-law?” She asked and he smiled slowly. “Of course, Caliste.” he replied as he turned to meet Darana. “Nice to meet you Darana.” he said and Darana just smirked at him, making me wonder what was going on in her head. Caliste barely regarded their exchange before she proceeded. “And that would be all for the introductions. As you are aware, Niklaus is the heir I have chosen to take over the empire when I’m gone.”

"Did someone come in here?" She looked up, confused, then registered the destroyed room. Her face went pale. "No. I've been focused on the spell, but I would have sensed.." She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes going wide with horror. I followed her gaze to the wall above Darius's bed. Words. Written in blood, still wet, still dripping. Darius's blood, I realized with cold fury, taken from the wound in his side. "The primary mate dies first. Then the Luna falls. Malachar rises."

“This is the end for you Elara, and I need you to know this would never have happened if you hadn't decided to come for me, you bit more than you could chew, and now you've met your end.” He gave the most menacing, devilish smile as he said the last word, like he would be satisfying a long-anticipated desire by killing me. And If he was going to kill me, then I'm sure as hell not going out a whining princess, I won't let him have the satisfaction he desperately wants. “Fuck you Dorian, this doesn't make you more of man, on the contrary, it makes you a weak man, who can't even have a fair fight with a woman, you had to kill me, because you know you could never beat me.”

"The other brides. She brought them tea too, didn't she?" He didn't answer. "Didn't she?" "Yes." "And they drank it?" "Most of them." I closed my eyes. Twelve women. Twelve cups of tea. Twelve graves. "They didn't die because of a curse," I said. "They died because they trusted her." Dorian stood up. Walked to the window. Stared out at the garden. "We searched her room last night," he said. "Found the sedative. Found photographs. Found a journal." "What kind of journal?"

She leaned down and bit him directly on the side of his neck—clamping her jaws tight, but intentionally keeping the pressure shallow enough to avoid tearing his throat out. ​Down by the council tables, Willow shifted on her feet, watching the struggle with an anxious frown. ​"Why is she hesitating?" Willow asked impatiently, turning her head toward Dorian. "Why isn't she just killing him and ending it?" ​Dorian kept his gaze fixed on the dais, a faint, knowing look in his eyes. "She isn't hesitating, Willow," he said quietly. "She's exerting absolute dominance. She is giving him one final chance to yield on his own and spare his own life."

“I just learned how to survive without destroying everything around me.” Jaxon’s smile twisted. “And look where that got you. We’re still in the same fucking cage.” Above them, the matriarch leaned forward with predatory interest, her eyes narrow and glittering. Something was shifting—and she could feel it. “I just… I don’t want to end like this,” Dorian said, his voice low but steady, his eyes flickering briefly to the katana in his hand. He took a deliberate step back, the weight of his brother’s words still heavy in his mind, but he didn’t want this to be their end—not here, not like this. He lowered the blade, his movements smooth, almost mournful.

“But you came back. You hurt the one person I was still trying to protect from myself.” The last thing Dorian saw was my face. Not twisted in rage. Calm. Resolute. Unforgiving. And then he stopped screaming. Because his mouth, his body, his entire existence— Turned to ash. Gone. The wind didn’t even carry the dust away. I stood, wings still blazing behind me, and turned toward the rest of the battlefield. They wanted a monster. I’d shown them a queen.

The truth clawed its way up through centuries and landed in me like a blade. Magnus had killed me. Not once. But over and over—every time I was reborn. Every time I got close to reclaiming the throne meant for me. He always found me. He always tried to stop me. But not this time. Dorian got me some hours later, when I was still sitting in the dark, book closed on my lap. He entered without a sound, his silver cloak trailing behind him like mist. “You remember now,” he said quietly. I didn’t ask how he knew. Dorian always knows things before you do.